Fenway and Hattie

by Victoria J. Coe

  “Yo, man!” Lance is barking. “I said, ‘Where’s the treat?’”

  We all turn at once. Lance is jumping on his human, who is flailing his arms and shouting. “Hey! Get down! Off!” This guy’s either totally lost it, or he’s about to.

  I catch Lance’s eye. “Chill out, dude,” I tell him. “Your human needs you.”

  Lance stops and tilts his head. “Needs me for what?”

  “To make him happy.”

  Lance looks totally surprised. Did he not expect me to be the source of such wisdom? Or is he stunned by the simple message?

  Whatever the reason, he gets it. He gazes eagerly at his human, who is visibly relieved and says, “Sit.”

  His tail swishing, Lance sinks to his bum. Yes! A treat sails into his mouth. He smacks his chops.

  Lance’s human lets out a whooshy breath. His face is beaming with joy.

  Lance bows his head for the rub. And another treat.

  Rocky turns to me, impressed.

  Sadie stares, admiring my cleverness. Or maybe just checking me out.

  What can I say?

  After many more treats and, even better, lots more pats and hugs of happiness from my humans, we get back in the car. I snuggle onto Hattie’s lap. I soak up the praise all the way home.

  The next morning, we head out to walk. But something’s different. Instead of turning up the street as usual, Hattie and Food Lady go in the opposite direction. Is this the way to the Dog Park? My nose gets busy sniffing for clues.

  And right away, I find some! In the grassy park next door, I smell Golden Retriever and another breed I can’t quite identify. Goldie? Patches? Is this where they live?

  My tail starts going berserk. And with good reason. Hattie and Food Lady turn into the front walkway. I pull them toward the house.

  The door opens and out steps Muffin Lady. And Angel. And more good news! Goldie and Patches. On leashes.

  Wowee! My whole body wiggles with excitement. “’Sup, ladies?” I say.

  Our noses and tails go wild with friendly greetings.

  “I almost can’t believe it,” Goldie says as we bound down the porch steps. “Angel’s coming on a walk with us. After all this time!”

  “I’m so full of hope,” Patches says in her lovely voice. “Maybe our precious Angel isn’t lost to us after all.”

  “Never lose hope,” I say proudly. “I didn’t. And now I have My Hattie back.”

  “What could’ve happened?” Goldie says.

  “Get this,” I say. “Turns out she was changing all right. Into a squirrel!”

  “Horrors!” the ladies gasp.

  “Yeah, it was pretty frightening. But luckily, I saved her. In the nick of time.”

  “You saved her?” Goldie says.

  “What did you do?” Patches says.

  “It was nothing. Just doing my job.”

  “Tell us,” Patches says.

  “Let’s just say I can be pretty ferocious when I put my mind to it.”

  Goldie looks like she wants to disagree but thinks better of it. “Wow.”

  “Fenway,” Patches says in her loveliest, most admiring voice. “You’re a hero.”

  Awww, shucks.

  The humans get busy yapping as we head into the street. Goldie and Patches do not think this is a bad idea. And I confess I’m getting used to it.

  The humans turn and go in our usual direction. I hope the ladies don’t think we’re headed Somewhere. I’m tempted to tell them the bad news that we’re not going anywhere cool like the Dog Park, but I don’t want to spoil our perfect day.

  As we stroll up the street, I can’t help thinking this is the way it should be. Walking together, like a family. We’re in the zone, ears back, eyes straight ahead. Except for the humans, who are chatting, not looking where they are going, and dragging on the leash. In other words, not behaving at all. But somehow, it’s okay.

  When we pass by the grassy park with the Perfectly Still Dog, he’s still there. Ears perked high, gaze fixed. Carrying the same flowers in the exact same spot, like he’s never even moved.

  “What do you suppose is his deal?” I ask the ladies.

  “What?” they both say at the same time.

  “Him.” I cock my head toward the Perfectly Still Dog.

  Goldie and Patches exchange glances. They must be as perplexed as I am. Patches looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t.

  Then Goldie says, “Fenway, you’ve got an interesting way of looking at things.”

  “Thanks.” I guess.

  We pass a few more grassy parks, trees, and bushes, then stop at a driveway where a Lady Human is rubbing sudsy water on a car. Food Lady and Muffin Lady chat with her while a short human skips across the grass, her black, silky hair bouncing behind her. She plops beside me and strokes my head. “Awww,” she coos. “Puppy!”

  Clearly, this short human appreciates a handsome dog. I lick her cheek, and she giggles. She smells like glitter and glue.

  She smiles at the short humans. “Zah-ra,” she says.

  Hattie nudges Angel, her eyes wide. She smells like she’s getting an idea.

  Farther up the street, my ears pick up a familiar sound.

  Tinky-tinky-tink-a-too. That musical truck! It’s headed straight for us!

  Hattie and Angel must recognize it, too, because their energy surges. They hold out their hands to the tall humans, who give them flimsy little papers.

  Hattie and Angel bounce on their toes, eagerly awaiting the truck’s arrival. Obviously, they are ready to confront the monster like a couple of ferocious dogs. I guess they’ve been inspired by a certain canine hero.

  But can they handle this evil on their own? I hardly have time to decide. The musical beast appears, its tinkly voice blaring. “Go away, you nasty truck!” I bark, leaping and thrashing wildly. If the leash weren’t holding me back, I’d . . . I’d—

  “FEN-way!” Hattie shouts. She’s pushing her palm toward the pavement. “Down!”

  I know this! I know this! I drop to the ground and lie at her feet.

  Hattie pats my head, her body radiating total happiness. “Good boy! Good boy!” she says. She sounds deliciously wonderful. Just like the treat that sails into my mouth.

  The ladies look on, impressed. What can I say?

  And the short humans are just as successful in getting what they want. Clearly intimidated, the Evil Human disappears from the truck window and then returns with ice cream. Which Hattie and Angel snatch right out of his hands. That’s my girls!

  As we watch the musical truck cruise off into the distance, I sidle up next to Hattie. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. A nice glob drops right in front of my paw. Sluuuuuuurp! Mmmmm! Vanilla.

  Back at home, another amazing thing happens. Me and Goldie and Patches head through the side gate and into . . . the Dog Park!

  Hooray! Hooray! I romp with the ladies, tumbling and tussling and chasing for a Long, Long Time. It’s the most fun at the Dog Park ever! Eventually, we flop down in the cool grass for a rest. I lay my head next to Patches. She licks my nose.

  I’m considering a well-deserved snooze when sounds come from the front of the house. Short-human sounds.

  The ladies spring up. We all flock to the side gate to investigate.

  The short human we met on our walk is skipping up the driveway, a sparkly headband on her head. Hattie and Angel are rushing to greet her. “Zah-ra,” they cry. Hattie’s waving. She’s holding the jump rope.

  Hattie hands one end of the jump rope to Zahra. Angel goes to take the other, but then shakes her head, a huge grin spreading across her face.

  Hattie’s eyebrows arch, but then she starts grinning, too. She and Zahra grip the handles and stand far apart. Soon the jump rope is turning and slapping the pavement in a steady beat. Ha
ttie begins chanting in a singsong rhythm. The others chant along with her.

  The jump rope circles over, around, and under a very happy Angel again and again and again. Angel hops up and down, grinning widely as the jump rope turns and slaps, slaps, slaps the driveway.

  “Aha,” Patches says. “So it’s a game!”

  I cock my head. “What do you mean?”

  “Angel’s been hopping over a rope like that for days and days,” Goldie explains.

  “We couldn’t figure out why,” Patches says.

  Goldie’s fur prickles. “Maybe you couldn’t. I always knew it was a game.”

  “As I recall, you were just as puzzled as I was,” Patches says.

  “Humph,” says Goldie.

  A happy squeal directs our focus back to the gate. We watch the jumping, chanting short humans for a while, then Goldie snatches a stick and takes off. Me and Patches chase her around the Dog Park.

  When it’s dark outside, I finally have Hattie all to myself. I’m cuddled in her soft and cozy bed. She kisses my brown paw, then my white paw. She showers my neck with kisses. I slobber her cheek, and she giggles.

  Hattie brushes my fur and sings, “Best buddies, best buddies . . .” It’s the Happiest Moment Ever. Me and My Hattie are together forever, and nothing can come between us.

  Sighing with contentment, I close my eyes. And then . . .

  I’m sprawled out in the soft and cozy grass.

  “Chipper, chatter, squawk!” An Evil Squirrel climbs over the fence, his sharp, drooly fangs glistening in the moonlight.

  I sprint after him.

  “Chipper, chatter, squawk!”

  “It’s called a Dog Park for a reason!” I bark.

  He scurries toward the back fence. Where Hattie is crouched down in the grass. Her arms wide open . . .

  “Watch out, Hattie!” I bark.

  But it’s too late! That Evil Squirrel jumps right into her arms!

  “Awww,” she coos, caressing his bristly fur.

  He chippers softly and snuggles against her neck.

  No! No! Somebody please tell me Hattie’s not actually cuddling that nasty creature!

  He looks back and glares at me. He opens his mouth . . .

  CRRRRR-ACK! BOOM-KABOOM!

  Whoa! That’s one loud squirrel!

  My eyelids pop open. Whew! I’m in Hattie’s soft and cozy bed, shuddering. A bright light flashes outside. Rain pounds on the window. This cannot be good.

  Hattie’s clutching the used-to-be bear. She reaches for me. “Best buddies,” she whispers.

  Shaking with courage, I crawl onto her chest. I nuzzle against the used-to-be bear. Hattie strokes my back. Making Hattie happy is a big job. But luckily, I’m a professional.

  Acknowledgments

  In the midst of my own family’s chaotic move from the suburbs to the city, I found a way to cope by journaling as a dog named Fenway. Eventually, those notes turned into a character, and his story became a book—after a lot of hard work and with the help of many, many people.

  All of them deserve treats.

  A pile of meaty bones to my Super Agent, Marietta Zacker, the greatest champion any characters (or author) could ever have. Not only did she believe in Fenway from the very beginning, but she encouraged me to dig out more of Hattie’s story, and in the process, we dug out more of Fenway’s story, too.

  A platter of juicy hot dogs to my Editor Extraordinaire, Susan Kochan, who opened her arms and welcomed Fenway and Hattie into the Best Home Ever. With enthusiasm and patience, not to mention brilliance, she fed and cared for them, gave them plenty of fun and exercise, and even taught them a few new tricks as they prepared to go out into the world.

  A basketful of chew sticks to the fabulous editorial team at Putnam and all the talented people at Penguin Books for Young Readers for their countless hours of hard work and creativity in making this story into a book. Every one of them has earned an extra walk, plus a carefree game of Frisbee at the Dog Park!

  A room full of squeaky toys to my amazing writer friends, who embraced Fenway at first sniff, eagerly tossed the ball without tiring, remained stubbornly loyal through slobbery messes and unmentionable mishaps, and even held his paw at the vet’s office once or twice. A loud round of squeaks go to Hillary Hall Debaun, Sheri L. Gilbert, Joe Lawlor, Cynthia Levinson, Cheryl Lawton Malone, Judy Mintz, Pat Sherman, Pamela de Oliveira Smith, Donna Woelki, my classmates from Grub Street Boston, and my very wise and generous teacher Ben H. Winters.

  And best of all, a long, joyous romp on the beach for my family: Ralph, Philip, and James. A writer and her dog could never know more incredible support, longer-lasting patience, or greater love. I hope I’ve given you lots to be proud of. And laugh about. XXOO.

  Victoria J. Coe grew up in the seaside community of Duxbury, Massachusetts, and went on to live in New York and San Francisco, as well as large and small towns on both US coasts. During her family’s most recent move, she noticed her dog’s confusion and started to wonder what was going through his mind. As they walked in Boston’s Fenway neighborhood, his reactions to the sights, sounds, and smells of the city took hold of her imagination. Although she has written for many publications and nonprofit causes, authoring her first novel for children is the realization of a lifelong dream. Victoria now lives with her family on the outskirts of Boston, where she and her dog are always on the lookout for delivery trucks. And squirrels.

  www.victoriajcoe.com

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  Twitter: @victoriajcoe

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